You Can't Save Them All
by firestorm557
Summary: A job gone wrong brings out some heavy emotions between the brothers.


This is set some time in season two, not really a specific point in the timeline.

And i still don't own them, much to my dismay

**You Can't Save Them All**

The silence that engulfed the car was wrought with tension. Neither brother was ready to speak on the events that had just taken place, emotions too close to the surface. The hunt had been difficult, the house they were cleansing having multiple vengeful entities inhabiting it, and they were none too happy to leave. Both boys had enough bumps and bruises to attest to that, not to mention that Dean was pretty sure that Sam had at least a mild concussion from his collision with a china cabinet. But that wasn't even the worst of it…

Dean quickly shook his head, ridding himself of the images that he wasn't ready to see again. He just needed a little time to wrap his head around what happened. Sam usually talked his ear off after a hunt, whether good or bad, so the silence he now found himself in was both welcome and a surprise.

Sam. Dean glanced to his right to take a quick look at his brother. There was a lump near his left temple that was starting to bruise spectacularly, but nothing life threatening. Sam was staring straight ahead, hands clenched into fists on his lap, and jaw tensed, like if he let himself relax he might break apart. Or break _something_ apart.

When Sam still hadn't said anything by the time they had entered their motel room, Dean was starting to find the silence unnerving. He knew from experience that Sam needed to talk things like this through. Dean was used to compartmentalizing his emotions when it came to hunts. But when Sam kept things bottled up, they eventually came to a head in an explosive kind of way. He turned to look at his brother to find him pacing the room, his long legs eating up the stretch of carpet in 3 strides; the kind of pacing that only occurred when he was nervous…or furious. _Well, there's no time like the present._

"Sam." His brother stopped his pacing and turned to look at him. The tense line of his jaw had not abated. "You okay?" Sam gave him an incredulous look before he scoffed. "Okay? Dean, I am so far over the line of okay that I can't even see it anymore." He resumed his pacing.

"Sam," he said, softer this time, "its okay to be upset." Boy, did that get a reaction out of him. Sam whirled around to face his brother, arms flung out wide. "Upset? I'm not upset, Dean, I'm angry! I'm angry that we can't do our job right! That I can't do my-" he cut himself off abruptly, turning his head away from his brothers gaze.

"What the hell are you talking about Sam? We did our-"

"We lost her Dean. We lost his wife- his pregnant wife! – and now he has to live out the rest of his life knowing that we weren't good enough to save her. Do you know how that feels?" The anguish in his voice was unmistakable, and Dean knew that visions of blond hair and fire were mingling together with the more recent events of tonight.

"Sam, this was not our fault, you understand? We did everything that we could but she came home early, took us by surprise. Hell, she wasn't seven supposed to be in town until Friday! And we had no way of knowing until it was too late. It's not your fault."

"It's our job to save people, and I –"

"You can't save them all Sammy; it's just not in the cards."

"We should have been able to save _her_! What-" He cut himself off with a choked sob, eyes glistening. "Sam?" Dean prompted him, not liking where the conversation was turning. "What good are these visions if they aren't going to help me save people? Huh? I mean, is this someone's idea of a sick joke?" By now he was shouting his grievances at the ceiling.

"Sam, this hunt had nothing to do with any of your visions. Where is this coming from?"

"If I knew how to control it, you know, like Max could, then they would be able to help us Dean. I just wish-"

This time Dean did the cutting off. "But you can't Sam. Hell, we don't even know where they come from! We lost someone today, and yeah, it hurts, it hurts like hell. But we did everything that we knew how to do, and unfortunately this time it wasn't enough. We can't save them all, Sammy. It's not our fault, and it sure as hell isn't something that you should be trying to shoulder the blame for all by yourself."

Sam had sat down on the edge of his bed, and everything in his body language just screamed defeat. His shoulders were slumped and his head was bowed; his arms were laid across his knees, and all of his weight seemed to be balanced on that point of contact. His gaze was unfocused, and Dean was unsure of how much of what he had said had gotten through to Sam. He sighed, and resigned himself to saying it as many times as it took for Sam to start believing the truth behind the words.

"Alright, I'm going to go and take a shower, then when you get cleaned up we can put this town in our rear-view mirror, okay?" Sam didn't respond. Gathering up a fresh set of clothes, he made his way to the bathroom, but stopped at the door, turning around to just look at his brother. He had yet to move, just continued to gaze at the dingy motel rug under their feet. But Dean needed to know that Sam had heard at least something that he had said before. "Sam, it's not your fault." He stood there waiting until his brother answered him. He knew that Sam could feel him staring at him, but he would stand here and say it as long and as many times as needed. After a long silence, his patience was rewarded.

"Yeah, Dean." His throat was closed up with emotion, and each word grated past his lips, but he knew that his brother was waiting on him. The door clicked shut and the water started, and Sam exhaled, letting his body sag a little more heavily onto his knees.

"But I feel like it is."

possible sequel coming if people like it

Review please


End file.
